


the two of us

by ponyokun



Series: doomcio oneshots [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Akande doesn't make an appearance, I didn't think we could go shorter than before but here we are, Letters, Lúcio is on tour, M/M, Paris - Freeform, Short One Shot, Songfic, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 12:37:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14934401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponyokun/pseuds/ponyokun
Summary: Lúcio is in Paris, living through a cliche.





	the two of us

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still trying to get back into my groove, so have another insanely short work!  
> I went back in my favorites playlist on YouTube from like sixth grade and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcYJA8qvW7k) caught my eye, and I decided to write. :D  
> I think I'm going to work on chaptering my som.va fic more this summer, so you can (maybe) look forward to that! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this. Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3

Lúcio’s fingers, poised over the hotel stationery, rub thoughtfully at the rubber grip on his pen. He can feel the tip of the Eiffel Tower judging him, peeking over the tops of the trees, just visible in the distance from his room. 

He has about half an hour before he has to leave the comforts of the little balcony for sound check, but he can’t figure out what he wants to do -- there is absolutely nothing necessary about being in France, and it’s been a long time since he hasn’t heard the huff and puff of breath in his chest. It’s so much more unsettling than it is relaxing, and perhaps that is the worst part of what’s supposed to be a magical city. 

_Dear Akande_

The first page of the notepad is crumpled and tossed to the ground, narrowly stopped by Lúcio’s foot when it rolls towards the edge of the balcony in an attempt to escape to the bustling Parisian sidewalks below. 

_Akande,_

_Paris is beautiful. Lena coerced me into eating snails yesterday, and I thought it was just little chunks of chicken._

He leans back in the soft porch chair, tapping the pen against his lips and humming in thought. The escargot really wasn’t that bad, and he can hear Akande’s smug “I told you so” in the back of his mind. 

_I wish you could’ve come with. I had it all planned out -- we were going to be typical tourists, every day we were going to do a new touristy thing. Visit the Eiffel Tower, walk along the Champs-Élysées, you know. I’m sure you’ve already done all that stuff before, though._

_Anyway, I hope you’re doing well. I won’t see you until my tour is over at least, and that’s a couple months. Don’t do anything dumb without me there to stop you._

A big gust of wind shakes the tree above Lúcio, raining leaves down on the table and sending the crumpled letter to its freedom through the gap underneath the railing. He lets out his own gusty sigh as if in retaliation. 

_I really miss you, and it’s only been_

Off comes the second page of the notepad with a somewhat vicious ripping noise, and this time Lúcio gets up out of his seat and cracks the screen door open with his foot to toss the letter in the trash. The clock says seven p.m. already, but he doesn’t notice, plopping back into his seat and straightening his back as he begins to write the letter he already knows he’ll never send once again. 

Who sends letters, anyway?


End file.
